Harry Potter Starts A Race War
by The Stupendous Jimbo
Summary: The Dark Lord has risen, and plans to force the world to bow to his new order. The Ministry is in disarray, refusing to see the truth. Harry Potter returns for his fifth year, and he's building an army. The righteous will vanquish the evil, and Hogwarts shall be cleansed of the undesirables. This time, Harry has a solution. A Final Solution.
1. Harry Potter's First Cleansing

**Harry Potter Starts A Race War**

 **Chapter 1: Harry Potter's First Cleansing**

The idea of promoting one's race isn't necessarily a _bad_ thing; more often then not the act has been highly misunderstood. See, there's nothing wrong with being proud of who you are. Think if it as, well, promoting your self-esteem. Our society has a nasty knack for misconstruing confidence for arrogance; accusing someone of putting themselves on a high pedestal whenever they stand up for themselves. When you think about it, you're not actually obligated to mingle with others. Some people simply prefer to stick with their own kind… Who happen to share the same… _qualities…_ as themselves.

However, we as a society has subscribed to the idea that "racism" is and should be regarded as wrong; it's what holds society together and keeps it from collapsing into absolute anarchy. See? United under a single banner. Nowadays, muggles cannot hold down a job if someone has accused them of being a "racist". Most of the time, there is not a single shred of evidence that proves an act of racism actually occurred; it boils down to one giant "he-said-she-said" argument. If everyone were to sit down and listen to all sides of the story, we wouldn't struggle with the socio-economic issues we have today. Not to mention most stereotypes have a speck of truth to them, so is it _really_ racist to dislike a quality of someone who just so _happens_ to be of a different ethnicity?

Hermione and Ron's mouths collapsed further to the floor as Harry continued explaining his newest philosophical insight late at night by the fireplace in the Gryffindore common room. Hermione wore a look of absolute repugnance while Ron's head was tilted nonchalantly, lost in morbid curiosity.

"Mate…" Ron coughed, after an awkward pause, "Where did all of this come from?"

"Something Uncle Vernon was explaining while watching tele," Harry responded, as if this were obvious.

Ron retracted his head. " _Blimey_ Harry! Since when did you listen to that old git?"

"I don't!" Harry quickly replied, "I just happened to catch it while I was doing uhh.. Reconnaissance!"

Harry still struggled with the idea of explaining to his best friends how he spent his summer under a window hopelessly awaiting news for signs of Voldemort's return. He was still angry at the lack of response from anyone, despite how Ron and Hermione made it expressively clear that Dumbledore ordered the two to keep limited contact with him. Even though he knew it wasn't their fault, and they were just following orders, he felt they didn't fully comprehend his sense of abandonment. He wanted them to feel guilty. He wanted them to know what he had to endure by himself. On the other hand, explaining that you spent your summer lying in the garden is still a tad bit embarrassing, especially if you're the famous Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the one who defeated the Dark Lord at the tender age of 15 months.

"Harry," Hermione started, finally regaining her composure, "You don't actually… Believe… In that sort of.. stuff, do you?"

"It helped with getting rid of the Dursley's." Harry responded with a shrug.

"What!" Ron and Hermione both gasped. Ron leaned closer with anticipation while Hermione started nervously rolling her finger through her bangs.

"Oh yeah, funny story. Won't be seeing those guys again."

A very devilish smile spread across Harry's face. The movement of his forehead slightly parted his hair, revealing his scar. The look ran a shudder through Hermione's neck, as if the air suddenly turned pale.

"Harry, what happened? And why didn't you mention this earlier at… You know, the house?!" Hermione asked quietly, not wanting to bring attention to the fact the three of them spent the night at a wanted man's house.

"Well first off, I'm still rather angry at the two of you for your lack of correspondence," Harry started. "I mean since when did you have any regard for the rules or doing what you're told – Not a word, Hermione!"

That question was obviously directed at Ron, for Harry was swift to nip whatever Hermione had to say in the bud by slicing the air with his index finger and shoving it to her lips.

"But Dumbledore said-"

"Dumbledore said this; Dumbledore said that! Dumbledore also said Snape's to be trusted!"

"Look, we still don't know what he's planning, but surely he knows what he's doing! We had to trust him!" Hermione butted in with her unwantedness, as per the usual norm.

"Hermione…" Harry took a deep breath, as if to willingly choose his words carefully like he would for someone he viewed as an equal. "Did Dumbledore know what he was doing when hiring a Defense against the Dark Arts teacher? Like, ever? Need I remind you that four out of four times Hogwarts has been put into danger, and it almost always lead back to the Defense against the Dark Arts teacher?"

"Not true! Professor Lupin-

"Had to resign because he was a werewolf. And don't get me wrong, the guy was brilliant; however, he did forget to take his medicine during a very crucial time! Hermione, he knows when the full moon is. How the bloody hell do you forget to take the _one_ antidote in existence during the _one_ time you knew you needed to take it? How does something like that slip your mind?! I'd be living with my Godfather now if he had only remembered to take his pills!"

Ron tilted his head again. "What's a pill?"

"Shut. Up. Ron."

Silence.

"Anyways, Dumbledore, our famed hero and genius who swears up and down Hogwarts is the safest place on Earth, _literally_ hired the Dark Lord. Dumbledore, the most brilliant wizard there ever was, got fooled by the Polyjuice potion. Forgive me if my faith in him has dwindled slightly."

Hermione shook her head. "Dumbledore also prevented you from getting expelled, remember? Dementors? Using magic?"

"Dumbledore also hired a con artist and a squib to watch over me."

"Oh come off it, Harry!" Ron, feeling perturbed at being ignored, finally stepped in. "Okay we get it! Mistakes were made! Can you two just stop for a second, I want to hear what happened to that uncle of yours! What do you mean you got rid of the Dursleys?!"

The air once again thinned as the evil smile returned to Harry. Ron could have sworn he saw a thundercloud outside one the windows.

"Oh yes, the Dursleys…" Harry coughed, trying not to snicker too hard. "Well for one, Uncle Vernon held a rather poisonous stance on equality and classism. Ron, since you're not well educated on muggle systems of government I'll simplify things. In England, there's a huge canyon separating the classes. You've got the rich, the poor, and not much of a middle class. Sort of how your family lives in destitute while that rat face Malfoy loves flashing his galleons around like an American at a whore house – Not a word, Hermione!"

The air was once again split in half by a swift index finger to Hermione's lips.

"That being said, the Dursleys are rather well off. Not exactly loaded, but that pig of a cousin eats well… Too well… And on top of that, dear Uncle Vernon has maliciously instilled an overdeveloped sense of pride in that worthless son of his. Furthermore, on the topic of class, he's convinced the lug that they are superior to most of the world. Now take this mindset, and quantify it by Dudley's weight, and you have the Dursleys in a nutshell, as well as my ticket out of that household once and for all."

"I'm not following," Ron replied.

Hermione had a sudden epiphany. Knowing where this was leading to, she groaned. Harry, feeling proud of his adopted sister's functioning brain, chuckled before continuing.

"So one day while Uncle Vernon was watching tele, he began offering his unwanted opinions on people and their place in the world. And I thought to myself, 'well that's not something you should be instilling on a child' when it suddenly hit me! England has this thing called the NSPCC!"

Harry could tell Hermione _really_ didn't like where this was going.

"Oh Harry, you didn't!" She groaned.

"Ohhhh I did."

"What is NPSC or NSPCS or whatever?" Ron asked inquisitively.

Hermione instinctively lifted her hand, ready to answer the question when Harry grabbed it and gently held it down.

"NSPCC, Ron, and I'm glad you asked. It's the National Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children. It's a charity service in the United Kingdom dedicated to assisting with matters of child protection and deals with abuse. Basically, if you or someone you know is being abused by their parents or guardians, you can report it to them and they'll step in and get the authorities involved. So one night, after Uncle Ham and the Aunt Horse's usual discussion about my place in the world, I snuck off and got in contact with them. It wasn't hard, I just had to find one of those billboards with a phone number, and give 'em a ring. After arranging a meeting with an agent, I began telling them about how they were molesting me. They had been doing it for all my life. I told them how they fed me only crackers and grapefruits, while my poor, dear cousin ate cookies, cakes, and wasn't given proper nutrition. I feared for my life, see? I told them how they made me sleep in a cupboard full of poisonous spiders all of my life, and the only reason I got my own room now was because one of the neighbors asked about why they never saw the light on in my room."

Hermione's face went pale. She looked horrified at what she was hearing. "Harry!" She nearly shouted. " _Molesting you_?!"

"Mentally abusing me too. They had me believe my parents abandoned me, that they died in a car crash. I mean there was never a car registered to their name, so I was eventually bound to ask questions. They had me convinced that my parents never loved me, and they took me in by the kindness of their own heart. It's called Stockholm Syndrome, Hermione."

"I know what that is, but you _lied_ to social workers to get your aunt and uncle in trouble!"

Harry chuckled. "Oh I didn't exactly 'lie', I merely exaggerated the truth… Well yeah, I lied. But ohhh man did they buy it. One look at my scar and they were calling the police."

As Harry continued his story, his voice grew darker, and his face twisted into something sinister. "It gets better. I told them how they were telling everyone I was attending St. Brutus' Secure Centre for Incurable Criminal Boys, and yet if you check the registry, my name's not even in the system. Sure enough, they did a bit of snooping around and found that everything I was telling them checks out. It was all working nice and well, but the icing on the cake was the _scar_." Harry put extra emphasis on the last word.

"The scar?" Ron asked, his voice shaking. At this point, he wasn't sure whether he wanted to know what Harry would tell him next.

"Oh yes!" Harry's voice grew even more excited. "Wanna know how I got this scar? Well it's shaped like a lightning bolt because Uncle Vernon wanted to play _Wizards And Wardrobes_ with me. That's what he called that sadistic game… He would dress me up in wizarding clothes bought at some costume shop. It came with books, a wand, everything. So he would make me dress up and say 'I'm a wizard, show me that gizzard!' And one day, I didn't want to do it. So he got _real_ angry with me. Aunt Petunia shouted at me, told me to play along, but I didn't want to anymore. So Uncle Vernon got a kitchen knife, and he heated it up on the stove, right? He had Dudley and Aunt Petunia hold me down… I screamed the entire time. I said, 'no Uncle, I'll do it! I'll do it!' But it was too late. He stuck it to my forehead, and told me I would pay dearly for my disobedience…. By the time I finished testifying, the poor lady was in tears. I think I sold the story _too well_ because that night, the police had both Vernon and Petunia in shackles. Nearly knocked Aunt Petunia's head clean off while shoving her in the back of the police car. Dudley was in tears. They didn't know what to do with him. Sent him to the hospital because they feared for his weight. I think he has diabetes or something. Don't know; don't care. They said they'll have him moved to a foster home until he's an adult. Unfortunately, since his parent's accounts were frozen pending the investigation, he can no longer afford to attend that prep school of his. Not like he was going to amount to anything. Just another shit stain of society, if you ask me."

There was a very long silence once Harry finished his story. Hermione looked like she was going to be sick. Ron, on the other hand, was completely wide-eyed and lost for words. The only thing that could come out, after nearly five minutes, was…

" _Fuckin' hell, Harry!_ "

"RONALD! LANGUAGE!" Hermione nearly shouted. She turned to Harry, completely red in the face. "Oh Harry, how could you!"

"I know. Brilliant, right?"

"Brilliant?! Harry, your aunt and uncle are going to get locked up! Don't you realize what you've done?! You tore their family apart!"

"Yeah. And?"

"Harry! It doesn't matter how much they tormented you growing up, what you did was wrong! Even if they were mean to you, they're still your family! I… I can't believe you!"

Hermione found herself completely at a loss for words. Harry, feeling very little remorse for what he had done (quite proud, actually) turned to Ron. "You good, mate?"

"Good? Blimey, I'm fine, Harry. Are _you_ good?" Ron finally answered. "Also, how did you get away if they sent your cousin away?"

"I told them I had a guardian who could take care of me. They tried to give me a ride, but I gave them the slip. Ran in to Mad-eye on the way. That's how I got to the house, by the way. Promised to keep that whole affair secret. Speaking of secrets, Dumbledore was rather displeased with me, since now he has to go out of his way to find a place for me to live, as if your parents haven't adopted me already. See? I was supposed to keep all of this a secret, but I told you, Ron. That's what friends do. They don't keep secrets from each other. See how this works? This is called friendship. Ron? Hermione? What have you learned?"

The two turned to the other to exchange looks. Ron was giving Hermione that "You're the smart one, what do I tell him?" look while Hermione gave Ron the "you are better at talking to him, you figure it out!" look. Their mental conversation didn't last long when Harry stood up, stretching is arms.

"You know, I feel great! Like I really, _really_ accomplished something. Yeah, I feel extraordinary! I think this year will be better. I know the past four years have been a little rough, but I feel this year will be different."

"Your mental, you know that?" Ron muttered. "What about… You-Know-Who?"

"Oh yeah, the Dark Lord returned, but everyone seems fine ignoring it. Obviously, they're in complete denial, but I'm sure that'll sort itself out. In the meantime, if they're not going to care, then neither shall I." Harry looked down at his two best friends with a warm smile. "Anyways, it looks like we've got a new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher. Can't wait to see what kind of fuckup she turns out to be. Anyone who wears that much pink is _bound_ to be a complete and utter twat. Ten sickles says she and Filch will be shagging by the end of the month."

"Harry, I.." Hermione realized immediately something changed in Harry. His smile used to be warm and comforting, but now it was cold and sinister. She didn't know how to handle this newfound revelation. It felt like Harry realized he had discovered a very dark power, and was prepared to use it for his own gain. As scary as it was, she also felt comforted by the fact that whatever Harry was scheming, she and Ron would be shielded under the umbrella Harry would cast over them.

So…" Ron started, finally finding his voice, "What do you plan to do? Harry?"

"Hmm…" Harry started rubbing his chin. After a moment's pause he snapped his fingers. "I think I'll start a race war. Hogwarts could use a little cleansing!"

And with that, Harry cantered off to bed. "Night!"

Thus, Ron and Hermione sat silently that night by the fireplace in the Gryffindore common room, not sure what to say. Finally, Ron once again found his voice.

"Well the Sorting Hat _did_ say he would do well in Slytherin."


	2. Harry Potter Purges the Blacks

**Note:** Due to an error with the Fanfiction website in which updates were not being posted on the main page, this chapter was removed until the issue was resolved, so as to not have this story put on the backburner. I apologize dearly for any confusions on my readers' end. Thank you!

 **Harry Potter Starts A Race War**

 **Chapter 2: Harry Potter Purges the Blacks**

The next morning, Harry and Ron met in the common room to get ready for breakfast. Harry was unusually excited about the first day of school. It was always a magical moment, a feeling of nostalgia that could only be experienced one day of the year. The routine was set: He opens the day by greeting his best friend (who seemed oddly terrified of him lately), he then meets up with Hermione who will blast them with a speech about studying and how this year will be important, the three of them will then head to the Great Hall where Harry intends to destroy a plate of sausages, and finally, Harry's mood will fade upon being reminded that people like Draco Malfoy exist. Typically, he looks over someone's shoulders to see that rat faced pleb discussing something with his daft partners Crabb and Goyle (whom he suspects forgets they aren't romantically involved, hence the constant look of disappointment on their faces).

Harry sighed mournfully, remembering that following the usual first day encounter with Ratty and the Goons, he starts his first day of class, which he surmised would involve being reminded how much his House sucks for having the _one_ head who willingly deducts house points from them. Naturally, he respected Professor McGonagall (feared, actually), after all she doesn't play favorites and typically evens the playing field; but it would be nice to have a professor who slips a point or two to the Gryffindors like a certain greasy-haired, Ozzy-wannabe does for his pack of ingrates.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Asked Ron, noticing Harry zoning out. "Didn't get a wink last night?"

"Oh I did; HEYOOO!" Harry shouted, pumping his fist in the air. Ron didn't understand. He didn't need to understand. It was an innuendo. This was Harry's way of waking up and coming to the realization he was about to return to the dull circadian rhythm that comes with being enrolled at a school of magic. "Just coming to terms with being back at school. Say, have you seen Hermione yet? Don't think she'd head to the library so soon, would she?"

"It's Hermione," Ron grunted, "that is exactly what she would do."

"Or maybe I was getting prepared for classes, unlike you two!" Hermione said, suddenly appearing right behind them. "Honestly, don't you even have your books in your bags?"

"It's morning, Hermione, the only thing on my mind is food." Ron said between a yawn.

Hermione narrowed her eyes, took a moment to accept Ron's leisurely instincts, then directed a fierce glare at Harry. "You! Are you feeling all right?!"

"Never better."

"Really! And what was that about last night? Starting a race war? Do you have any idea what you're saying?"

"Hermione, Hermione," Harry said calmly, clasping a hand on her shoulder. "Food first, then we'll talk about cleansing the undesirables."

With that, he sloth-walked off out of the Common Room, leaving Hermione and Ron in yet another state of shock.

During breakfast, Ron helped himself to a plate of pastries while Hermione silently studied Harry's movements, trying to decipher his sudden change in behavior. To her surprise, Harry had his wand out, playfully pointing at Malfoy every time his back was turned. He was muttering something under his breath. She leaned in closer to try and hear what he was saying.

" _Accio Malfoy's throat! Accio Malfoy's throat!_ " Harry continued to mutter. Then a devious smile unfurled across his face. With a flick of his wand, " _Accio Malfoy's throat!_ "

"Harry, you know that only works on objects!" Hermione hissed. "And put that away, you're going to get us in trouble!" She reached out to grab Harry's forearm. He didn't even flinch when he turned to her.

"I know, but one can always dream." He chuckled again and pointed the wand at Malfoy. "Accio Malfoy's throat!" He said louder. Hermione shook her head in disbelief, before brandishing a small piece of parchment which contained her schedule.

"Let's see what classes I'm taking this year…"

"Oh I know that," Ron said, finally taking a break from eating, "all of them! The real question is what time?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Ronald," said Hermione, cracking a smile. "I told you, no more of that. If I try that one more time I'll be suffering from premature grey hairs before I'm 20."

Ron dipped his head. "There you go, you called me Ronald again…"

"And? That's your name, isn't it?"

Harry, amused, turned to the two. "Actually, on paper it's Ron. Now, if there were a theatrical reenactment of our adventures; surely Ronald would be acceptable. Huge difference."

He then returned to staring at the Slytherin table. His eyes darted from Malfoy to Crabb, and then Goyle. He muttered something under his breath.

"What's that, mate?" Ron asked, curious.

"I was just wondering… Does Hogwarts have some special remedial program? Or is Dumbledore accepting bribes?"

"Come again?"

Hermione turned her head to the Slytherins, not sure what Harry was going at.

Harry continued. "Or perhaps Hogwarts allows the mentally deficient to graduate as a publicity stunt. Real talk, how the _flying fuck_ does Crabb and Goyle continue to pass their classes? They have to be cheating, because one of them is straight up illiterate. Potions, we get; Snape plays favorites. Whatevs. But transfigurations? They can't even turn a toothbrush into a shank! What exactly is going on? Are… Are their parents aware their kids are _literally_ retarded? Does this run in the family? Is their family tree actually a family branch? What actually are the standards for getting through a year at Hogwarts?!"

They heard snickering spread across the Gryffindore table. Realizing they weren't the only ones listening, Hermione quickly moved to grab Harry's attention. "Harry! Why don't we head to class?"

"What? And why would I do that? The bell hasn't even rang yet…"

DING!

"Orrr we could head to class!" Hermione sang with a smile, as if she were trying to calm a brewing tempest. "Come on! We can sing the going to class song! Anything that doesn't involve bringing unwanted attention to us or stirring controversy!"

She grabbed both Harry's and Ron's wrists, and playfully swung them up and down. "Come on! Another year at Hogwarts! Hoggy-Hoggy-Hogwarts! A school of Magic! Fun! Not cleansing undesirables!" Her voice sounded desperate.

"You know," Harry said, wanting to mentally get inside her head, "There sure have been an increase of _blacks_ lately."

"IT SURE IS TRAGIC IF WE DON'T LEARN MAGIC!" Hermione nearly shouted, trying to drown out that last statement with song. Whatever was going on with Harry, she _really_ didn't like it.

Ron, completely lost, looked at the two with fear. "Harry? Hermione? What is going on?"

"RONALD JUST SING!"

"I… I don't sing."

"Really, the increase of _blacks_ is quite concerning."

" _ **OUR YEARNING FOR LEARNING CAN'T BE QUENCHED!**_ "

Everyone surrounding the three turned to Hermione. A few of the first years backed away slowly, edging closer to the exit. Fred Weasley patted the kid on the back and gently whispered, "don't worry, she's always like that."

Hermione's grip on Harry and Ron tightened as she ran the two of them into the main passageway, and on towards Transfigurations. She didn't get far, for her journey was immediately cut short by…

"Potter!" A voice sneered.

Three pairs of footsteps marched closer to them. Hermione's heart sank. She knew exactly who that was. Evidently so did Harry, given the malicious smile that soon covered his face. Ron turned, his hand gripping his wand, just in case.

"Well, well, I was wondering when I'd be hearing from the Schutzstaffel." Harry turned to the source of the voice. "Can I get a Sieg Heil!"

Malfoy didn't understand, nor care for the reference as he continued to glare at Harry with burning hatred. "What are you getting at pointing that _thing_ at me like that? Don't think I didn't see your little game!"

"First off, Malfoy, it's called a wand and I'm sure it's not the first time you've had a man's wand pointed at you." Harry replied curtly. "Second, why do you talk? Like, what was God thinking giving you a voice box?"

Before he could blink, Harry found Malfoy's wand suddenly pressed hard against the tip of his neck. "Mmm feisty, Malfoy. I showed you mine, now you show me yours. Gayyy."

"I'm warning you, Potter, if you have done anything to me, I _will_ —"

With his index and middle fingers stuck together, Harry calmly moved the wand to the side. "Listen, how many times are we going to do this? Don't you get _bored_? It's the same thing: you and your gang of half-wits always approach us. You usually make some snide-ass remark about Ron being poor, you call Hermione a mudblood, and then you drop some empty threats to me before a teacher usually whirs around the corner to break up the fight, to which you respond with the words 'my father' or whatever. Why don't you just take your unwanted existence, and sod off? Really – do us all a favor. Literally _nobody_ likes you. In fact, I am fairly certain you are the unwanted lovechild between a mongering drunkard and the village idiot, because I swear your face has been mathematically perfected by a team of elite genetic scientists to be the dumbest. Fucking. Face achievable by humankind—"

He was interrupted by a sudden force that slammed him to the floor. Harry realized his mistake the moment he took notice of Malfoy's smoking wand. Now facing the ceiling, a moment of clarity dawned on him. In hindsight, he probably should have toned it down a notch.

Looking over, he saw Crabb and Goyle had Ron and Hermione in a headlock, pinning them against the wall. Malfoy, wand in hand, slowly walked up to Harry and pressed his wand into the center of his scar. The burning sensation nearly blinded Harry to tears.

"Now you listen, and you listen good," Malfoy half whispered half growled, "If you _ever_ speak ill of my family like that again; I don't _care_ how unforgivable the Cruciatus Curse is: I will continue to use it on you until you're reduced to a babbling Longbottom. Understand?!"

Harry didn't answer.

" _WELL?!_ "

"Get bent!"

STOMP!

There was a crunching sound as Malfoy slammed his foot on Harry's face. Blood splashed on his shoes and over the floor. Harry screamed out, but quickly stopped upon catching his breath. Feeling satisfied, Malfoy stood up, motioned for Crabb and Goyle to release their captives, and quickly dispersed around a corner.

And so, Harry laid there, in a pool of his own blood, contemplating. His vision was blurred by a splitting headache and the pain coming from his broken nose. He tried to stand, but soon realized he couldn't.

"Blimey Harry, you're a mess!" Ron exclaimed, hovering over his broken friend. "Are you okay?"

Harry struggled to stand again, but fell down. Looking down at his legs, he realized they were locked together. "Ugh! I can't believe I just got my ass kicked by a first-year spell! Talk about a first day of school!"

He wiped his leaking nose with his spare hand. Looking down, he noticed the severity of his condition; his wrist was completely soaked in blood. "Ohhh that miserable little – Hermione, think you can reparo this?" He added, pointing to his nose.

"You know that only works on objects!" Hermione cringed as she ran over to him, pulled out a spare handkerchief and plugged his nose with it. "I swear, one of these days I am going to go _off_ on him! I mean _really_ just tell him off!"

"Oh really," Ron scoffed, "what will you say? 'Malfoy you cheeky oaf, how dare you, you nasty little cockroach!' I'm sure you'll strike fear into his heart."

Before she could respond, the room grew cold. Shivers slipped down their spines as footsteps echoed from the other side of the corridor. Harry felt a dreary presence. He knew of only one person in the entire school that could fill the atmosphere with such dread, and that was none other than…

"Good heavens, Mr. Potter, what happened to you?!" What came was the sound of a strict, and firm voice. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there, visually perturbed at the scene.

"P-professor McGonagall!"

Harry knew he was in for it now. Even though he was firmly planted on the floor, beaten and bloodied, he knew she would show no quarter. Like the honey badger, Professor McGonagall didn't give a shit.

"Please, professor," Hermione begged, "It wasn't-

That will do, Miss Granger," McGonagall replied, graciously sparing Hermione from the incoming shit-storm. Ron, whom was clearly in the right state of mind, knew to keep his mouth shut. "Mr. Potter, were you and Mr. Malfoy fighting again?!"

"No professor," Harry lied, cause snitches get stiches and thrown in ditches like little bitches, "I fell!"

"Fell and got yourself cursed?" McGonagall asked firmly.

"My wand went off. Funny how that happens."

"Yes… Funny… Mr. Potter, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Which will it be?"

"I swear, professor, I tripped!"

A severe grin etched itself on McGonagall's war-torn face (in the metaphorical sense, since _nobody_ has ever touched her face and lived to tell the tale). Her gaze pierced Harry through the chest. "Five points to Gryffindor."

Ron flinched, entirely confused, but Harry knew the gates to Hell were slowly opening.

"That's usually how much Professor Snape takes away during a lesson," McGonagall added. "Now, who did this to you?"

"I…..I…" Harry's voice shook. His throat was constricted, but he had to push through. "I…"

"Ten points to Gryffindor!"

Fifteen points was now added towards them. This was not going to end well, and Harry knew his battle of wits instantly turned into a suicide mission.

"I tripped, professor!"

"Are you sure? I can do this all day."

The air thinned, sharp pins pricked at Harry's throat. Cold sweat formed over his forehead. "Professor… I swear!"

Professor McGonagall shook her head in disappointment. Harry knew it was over. Pandora's box was open, and now he will soon face the wrath of Minerva McGonagall. What she did next, came as a complete surprise.

She looked up at the painting above Harry's head. "Mr. Gershwin, would you mind telling me what just happened?"

A little man in a yellow jacket peaked his head out of a grove in the painting "Yes, ma'am?" He squeaked. His voice was nearly muffled by the great, white mustache that covered half his face.

"Just now, did you witness how this student got injured?"

"I did, ma'am." He replied.

Harry was shocked. Nobody _ever_ thought to ask the magical, sentient paintings that were hung _literally_ everywhere around Hogwarts if they had seen anything unusual. The only time a painting was asked what happened was when the Fat Lady was conveniently attacked by Harry's kind-hearted godfather during his third year at Hogwarts. Harry knew he had been dealing with a master, but Professor McGonagall was evidently on a whole new level. The game was over.

"That boy was attacked by that blonde-haired student and his cronies from the Slytherin house." The man in the yellow jacket brushed his mustache as he recalled the event. "Quite mad, the boy was."

"As I thought," Professor McGonagall said, satisfied. She always knew to leave the victim barely alive, long enough to tell the others what they just saw. Nobody ever dared cross Minerva McGonagall. She turned to Ron and Hermione, their faces white with terror.

"Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, do kindly escort Mr. Potter to Madam Pomfrey, would you?" She asked kindly. Ron and Hermione both exhaled in relief, for they will live this day.

The two wrapped their arms under Harry's armpits and hoisted him up.

"Oh, and Miss Granger?" McGonagall started, "I trust you have already reviewed today's lesson?"

"Yes, professor," Hermione replied weakly.

"Excellent. Then I will task you with giving Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter their homework assignments once Mr. Potter is released from the Hospital Wing."

"Yes, professor."

With that, the storm passed, and Professor McGonagall returned to her lair, where many less fortunate students resided.

* * *

One of the advantages of being a fifth year is that at that point, Madam Pomfrey no longer asked questions. Most of them were returning customers she had seen so many times, she considered using scratch off tickets where for every 10th visit, they get an ice cream. She was the least bit surprised when Harry Potter was once again being dragged into her hospital wing. Even Harry felt a bit awkward when he saw one of the beds literally had his name on it. And this wasn't just a quick nametape coming from a label machine; this bed had _HARRY POTTER_ cross-stitched on a pillow. In Monotype Corsiva. The frame had his name artistically carved over the bed post. Madam Pomfrey literally put aside some of the annual budget for the medical department to have a customized bed prepared for Harry. That's how little surprised she was to see Harry being dragged in by his friends.

After placing Harry on his bed, Ron looked over to see one of the chairs had a giant "R" inscribed on the back (maroon colored, to Ron's great disgust). Hermione happily took her place on the chair next to his (with a violet "H" inscribed on the back, fitted perfectly for her height).

"That spineless little cockroach!" Harry shouted. "I swear he'll pay for that!"

"Come on, Harry, you know he's not worth it." Ron said, suddenly noticing his chair was fitted for his height as well. "Even if everything you said about him is most likely true. Oh, I'd hate to grow up with a family like that, always being concerned with who has how much money and whose blood is mixed with whose. Sounds like an absolute nightmare."

"Yeah, well fortunately for him, I'll gave to put a pin on that. We have more important matters at hand."

Hermione groaned. "Let me guess: the sudden influx of… you know…"

"The _blacks_?" Harry scanned the room to ensure nobody but the three of them were within ear shot.

"Oh Harry, not this again!" Hermione sighed. "Really, what has gotten in to you?!"

"What has gotten into me? What has gotten in to _him_?!" Harry nearly raised his voice.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, and had begun reviewing her English. Then it hit her. "Wait! You don't mean—

"Just look out the window!" Harry pointed to the window above his bed frame. Ron peaked his head up.

"Blimey! Hermione, look!"

She perched her head up, and gasped. "Wait a minute! Is that _Sirius_?!"

"Yeah!" Harry exclaimed. "I've been seeing him everywhere! He's been prancing about in that dog form like he's the school mascot! I've seen him nearly eleven times!"

Hermione slapped her forehead. "Ohhhhh. So when you said you've been seeing an increase of blacks, you meant… You meant him, right?"

Harry stared at her with disbelief. "Yeah! What the hell else would I mean?!"

"Oh I uhh…" She forced a cough. "Nothing. Nothing at all."

"Well? What do you suppose he's doing here?" Harry asked.

"He probably thinks now that You-Know-Who has returned, he wants to be here to protect you," Ron suggested.

"What are you saying, Ron? He knows better than to come here of all places!" Hermione protested.

Harry and Ron responded with an enormous "are you kidding me" glare. Hermione blushed, quickly getting the point. "Okay, okay, so he's probably here to look after you. But why would he risk exposing himself?"

Harry and Ron looked at each other. Harry gave Ron the "Dude, she's in to you, you talk to her" look, while Ron gave Harry the "She listens to you more than me, mate" look. With a sigh, Harry took the liberty of answering what he considered quite possibly the dumbest question anyone has ever asked him.

"Oh, I don't know," Harry said with excessive sarcasm, "It might have something to do with the fact he's my Godfather? Only living relative left? The one who swore to protect me? In a time where the Dark Lord has returned? Who is very interested in killing me? I mean I know I'm shooting from the hip, but this assessment is based off of historic trend."

"Okay Harry, I get it." Hermione. "No need to be rude. I'm just a bit perplexed that he would break the law to—

"Just. Shut. Up." Harry rubbed his temple, unable to get rid of the sudden pounding headache. "Hogwart's most brilliant witch, everyone… Ron, you seem to understand the gravity of this situation; would you kindly fetch a dog treat and see if he'll come here?"

"Actually, that won't be necessary." The voice of Sirius black suddenly entered the hospital wing.

The three of them flinched as they looked over to see a giant, black dog sitting at the door, tail wagging.

"Whoa! When did you get here?!" Harry asked, half stunned, half impressed that Sirius has perfected the art of speaking perfect English while transformed.

Hermione opened her mouth once again. "Why are you here, Siri-

"HERMIONE STOP!" Harry and Ron shouted at the same time, startling both Hermione and Sirius.

"Girl, do you want to expose me? Don't call me that!" Sirius growled.

"Oh sorry… What are you doing here, Bartholomew?"

"Bartholo-what?!" Ron asked, completely caught off guard.

Sirius sighed. "Oh Merlin's beard, just… Just call me something generic like Spot or something. Christ, does she always go overboard with naming things?"

"She named her cat Crookshanks."

Sirius tilted his head. "Crookshanks? _That's_ what you call it?!"

"Yes, that's his name!" Hermione snapped, placing her hands on her hips.

"I see… I've always been calling it Mucus on account that every time I take a nap on the couch, he's standing their… Drooling on me… Eugh! Well anyway, I suppose you're wondering why I've been sneaking around the grounds lately."

"Uhh yeah? Everyone's beginning to think Hagrid bought another dog!" Harry said. "You realize if you're caught, Dumbledore probably won't be able to save you, right?"

"Don't worry Harry, I'm quite adept at escaping law enforcement and remaining hidden. I did manage to break out of prison, in case you've forgotten. Besides, I'm going crazy being a prisoner in my own home!"

"Bartholo… I mean Spot, why are you here?" Hermione asked.

"Is it wrong to want to see my godson?" Sirius managed to smirk. He then turned to Harry. "But really, I'm not exactly comfortable leaving the safety of Lily and James' only son in the hands of a man who couldn't even stop a 14-year-old from competing in the Tri-Wizard tournament."

"Yeah that was bullshit. Everything about that screamed 'it's a trap!' from the very get-go." Harry scoffed in agreement.

"Exactly! So, I'm sure Miss Granger here will forgive my lack of trust in the security of a school that _literally_ hired the Dark Lord."

Harry's heart leapt with joy. "Holy crap you too?! I'm not the only one who noticed!"

"Okay, I get it! I was just trying to help!" Hermione sighed in frustration.

"It's okay," Sirius said, nuzzling his nose against her. "You're a good friend. I couldn't be prouder to have you in our lives."

Hermione smiled and scratched Sirius behind the ears. He wagged his tale, before turning to Harry. "Are you feeling all right, Harry?"

"Oh this?" Harry looked at his bed. "This is nothing. I'm feeling better already."

With that, he jumped out of bed and stretched. "Look, I'm glad you're here to look after me, but please, I need you to back off a little. I can look after myself."

"I don't doubt that, Harry," Sirius said, "I'm just a bit concerned, is all. Then again, if this is your wish, I will happily oblige." He turned to Hermione. "You know, because I'm not overbearing."

"I'm not overbearing!" Hermione nearly shouted.

Ron shrugged. "Well I think…"

Nobody would ever hear what Ron thought, for he was cut off by a Hermione's death glare.

"Precisely my point," Sirius said. With a bow, he turned around and made his way to the exit. He stopped at the door. "I fear dark things are going to happen here at Hogwarts soon…"

"Dark things are always happening here!" Harry said. "It's literally the one guarantee about this school! I mean this is a school that allows children to play a dangerous game such as Quidditch, yet requires parental consent to go to the candy shop at the village! Yes Hermione, I know that's a meme!"

Hermione held her tongue this time. Sirius left the room, leaving the three of them to ponder their next move.

"So, what class is next?" Ron asked, trying to break the tension.

"Divination," Hermione said with spite. "At least you two have that. In the meantime, I've got a _real_ class to attend. I'm off to Arithmancy."

Satisfied at a reminder of her own brilliance, she left the two to go to class.

"Harry," Ron started, realizing something, "What exactly is Arithmancy?"

"Chess with math," Harry answered. "The antithesis to that stupid Divination class I haplessly signed up for again. God, why do you make me do this, Ron?"

"Well I can't go it alone," Ron picked up his bags and flung them over his shoulder. "I mean, if we're going to die, why not make it a little fun?"

"I think this time we're going to learn about interpreting dreams, or something?" Harry scoffed. "As if that would ever apply to me."

The two laughed and headed off to class.

Later that evening, after meeting up with Hermione, the three of them were headed back to the Gryffindor Common room when they heard a light sniffle echoing across the corridor that connected the main passage to the Library. They stopped to listen; the sniffles got louder as they heard the sound of a female crying.

"Is that who I think that is?" Harry asked.

They made their way to the Library, following the sounds of crying. Before they could locate the source of the sound, an all-too-familiar presence emerged from the entrance. Harry sighed, seeing Malfoy once again. Small world, he thought. Not big enough for the both of them.

"Potter!" Malfoy sneered, as if it were force of habit. "Back so soon? Come for more?"

Harry took a deep breath. He _really_ wasn't in the mood for him. He was still in the final stages of plotting his revenge. "Malfoy, you shit-minging scrotum-sniffer, why are you here; this is a place of education! And why did you bring those two? You know they can't read!"

Crabbe and Goyle snickered, because Harry's choice of words were funny, unbeknownst that he was insulting them. They were silenced by Malfoy's glare.

"I see they fixed that ridiculous nose of yours. Personally, I liked it the way it was. It matched your ugly mug!" Malfoy chortled.

"Move aside, Malfoy!" Ron demanded. "We're not here for you!"

"Oh? Here for that autistic little freak?" Malfoy said sharply, pointing to the library.

"No, but I'll be sure to visit your mother later," Harry said with a grin.

Malfoy growled, much to Harry's delight.

"Seriously, who's over there?" Harry finally asked.

"That filthy Ravenclaw blood-traitor!" Malfoy answered furiously. "She deigned to look at me, as if she were equal to me."

Hermione started rubbing her palms. "Autistic…Ravenclaw… Wait! You don't mean Luna, do you?!"

"Well, well, Granger, I'd expect you to associate with her kind. Filthy mudblood!"

"Yeah, yeah, now will you just leave already?" Harry waved his arm in a shooing manner. "Go on, you've done your part. You've reminded us why the human race is failing."

"Yeah!" Hermione called out, "Go on, you…. You tweezer!"

Harry sighed, feeling slightly embarrassed. "Hermione, we really need to teach you how to insult someone. It's gotta come from the heart. The trick is to accept that there is a part of you that hates everything, even existence itself.

"Hmph!" Malfoy and his gang turned their heel to leave, but then Hermione had a sudden thought.

"Hold up!" She shouted, now pointing her wand at them.

Malfoy turned and paused. Crabbe and Goyle suffered a slight delay, but they eventually figured it out. Hermione's face had sunken into a look of fierce concentration.

"Ron," she murmured, "go in to the Library and check up on Luna. Make sure she's okay."

Ron broke off from the group and slipped in to the Library.

"Hermione, what are you doing?" Harry asked, looking suspiciously at her wand. "You this won't end well."

"Harry, you know Luna," Hermione said between grinned teeth, whilst maintaining eye contact with Malfoy. "You can berate her, trip her, insult her family, shove her around all day, and it won't bother her. She'll walk it off with a smile. But now she's been reduced to tears. Whatever Malfoy did… It isn't good."

"Of course it isn't good, but we've already exhausted our Malfoy Meter for the day, Hermione; we don't need to go in to overtime. Besides, what do you plan on doing?" Harry whispered.

"Report him, of course! If it's as vile as I think it is, the teachers ought to know!"

"Holy crap, Hermione." With a sigh and a facepalm, Harry took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "What will the teachers do? Write a letter home? Complain to Snape? Send him to Dumbledore? Literally _none_ of that will work and you know it! This school's approach to bullying is less effective than American schools. Do you know how American schools approach bullying, Hermione? They don't! They punish the victim! If you want anything done, you have to do it yourself! Trust me, Hermione, I already have plans for Diaries of a Wimpy Kid here; he will be taken care of, I promise!"

"What's that, Potter? Planning a little bit of revenge?" Malfoy snickered. "Oh what are you going to do?"

"Malfoy, I can assure you I already have something dastardly planned for you, and you will not see it coming, but now is not the time."

"And why not? I'm right here! Go on, Potter, let's see what you can do!"

With a laugh, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle drew their wands and pointed it at Harry. "We're waiting," Malfoy taunted.

"Priorities, Malfoy," Harry sighed. "Now come on, Hermione, let's get Ron and go before this gets worse."

But Hermione wouldn't move. Her face had turned murderous. Harry wanted to pull her away, but something held him back. The way she was standing, the way her wand was pointed, the look of contempt on her face told Harry there was no stopping her.

"What are you going to do, Granger? It's three against two!"

Hermione flashed her teeth, hungry for violence. "Like I care!" Her voice lowered, almost to a whisper, yet the entire room could hear every word. "You and I both know I know loads more magic than you. Sure, I may get hexed because I'm outnumbered, but know this: whatever happens to me; I _will_ take you down with me! Now don't move!"

Harry knew Hermione had never been more serious in her life. Conversely, he had never seen Malfoy's face turn beat red as it was now.

"How _dare_ you. HOW DARE TALK TO ME LIKE THAT!" Malfoy exploded. His face twisted into a grotesque canvas of fury and emotions. "You talk at me like we're _equals_ , you disgusting little hag! You And your filthy blood are a disgrace to the wizarding world! This school is diseased! Your kind is an infection that is spreading around like a plague! You! You, that blood-traitor Weasley, and… and _you, Potter!"_

His voice snarled at those last words. "You're the worst of them all! I don't understand why you won't just _die already_! You're the one that should have died last year, not Diggory! Why, I ought to…. Ought to…"

No one would ever know what Malfoy ought to have done, for Roy emerged from the Library holding a shaken Luna in his arms. She could barely move, her legs nearly collapsed with every step.

"Harry!" Ron cried out, "We need to get her to Madam Pomfrey! This isn't good!"

Harry's eyes widened at the scene. Luna's dirty-blonde hair covered her face as her head drooped to the ground. She refused to raise her head. She choked on her own tears, barely able to speak.

"Luna!" Harry called out with a gasp. He quickly ran over to her, wrapping his arms around her. She instinctively flung herself at him, clinging to his entire upper body. "Luna, it's all right; I've got you!"

She dug her head into his chest, her voice muffled by the impact.

"Let me see," Harry whispered, stroking her hair. "Let me see!"

She hesitated, but then slowly lifted her head to reveal her face. It was a complete mess. One of her eyes were swollen shut. Small, rigid cuts formed around her lips. Her aura of distinct dottiness was gone. Her eyes; those pale, silvery eyes once filled with hopes and dreams, were now empty. Something was brimming inside Harry's stomach. He felt sick seeing her like this. Every fiber of his being was filled to the brim with hot rage. His fingers were shaking, his mouth dry. He raised a quivering hand to embrace her, to protect her. He wanted to wrap his entire being around her, to shield her from everything.

A look of pure hatred stained Harry's face. He looked up at Malfoy, and no longer saw a human. His craving for violence thrashed at him, but he couldn't let go of Luna. He knew he needed to be there for her. At that moment, she was more important.

While all this was happening, Malfoy and his gang were laughing. _Laughing._ Laughing at Luna's pain. Laughing at what they had done to her.

Hermione seemed to have felt the same anger Harry was feeling boil inside of her. Suddenly, Hermione found that deep hatred Harry was talking about earlier.

"MALFOY!" She nearly shrieked. Malfoy flinched, not expecting her voice to boom like that. "YOU ARE A FUCKING WORTHLESS, BRAINDEAD, SCUMFUCK BASTARD PILE OF TRASH MENTAL DICKFACE THAT SHOULD BE GUNNED DOWN IN THE STREET LIKE THE DEGENERATE YOU ARE!"

Before Malfoy could react, a flash of light shot out of Hermione's wand. A moment later, Malfoy was lying helplessly on the ground. Unable to move. Unable to speak. Harry wasn't able to catch what spell Hermione used, only that it was super effective.

Ron was the first to speak. " _Fuckin' hell, Hermione_!"

"LANGUAGE, RONALD!"

Ron flinched, nodding obediently. Crabbe and Goyle suddenly moved towards them, but were quickly disarmed. They yelped and raised their hands in the air, surrendering.

Hermione was breathing heavily, unsure of what to do now that she had unleashed all of that built up rage. Harry grabbed Luna by the shoulders. "I'll be back, okay Luna? Don't worry, I won't leave you. Ron, take care of her, will you?"

He gingerly passed her to Ron, then walked over to a fuming Hermione, who didn't realize her wand was still raised. Raising a cautious hand, he gently lowered her arm. "May I take it from here, Hermione?"

She nodded, not breaking eye contact with Malfoy, who continued to writhe on the floor.

Harry had not anticipated he would be taking revenge on Malfoy that day, but considering the recent turn of events; he felt it was necessary to move his schedule to the left. He drew his wand, slowly walking over to him.

Malfoy's eyes stared helplessly at Harry as he moved closer and closer to him. Soon, he was bathed in Harry's shadow, as he stared down at him. A sharp singe of fear loomed over Malfoy. The look in Harry's eyes haunted him. They looked inhuman.

Harry dropped down on his knees and tapped Malfoy on the forehead with his wand. He then leaned his head in closer, almost touching his ear.

"You know, Malfoy," Harry said, his voice filled with malice. "You're right about one thing: this school is suffering from a disease. There is an infection that is spreading around like a plague. An infection that must be pacified in a baptism of fire… Oh don't you worry, I have no intentions of setting you on fire. But I am going to hurt you, Malfoy. I am going to hurt you _very. Very. Badly._ And when I have finished, I am going to purge the sickness that is killing this school. Do you know what that sickness is? The sickness is people who look down on others with contempt. People who think they are superior. People who actually believe the position of the constellations predetermine the lives they will have. People who believe the blood coursing through their veins actually dictates their worth. People like you, Malfoy. That is the corruption I claim. And this sickness? The sickness that I speak of? I will _snuff_ it out… Starting with _you_!"

 _STOMP!_


End file.
